Step 2: I don’t know who or what Mister Babadook is yet, but I’m kinda rooting for him. This kid’s batshit – got it coming. Does the Babadook eat you? Disembowel you? Drag you to hell? Don’t care. Just do it to this kid. And do it fucking now.

Step 3: Poor Mom. She’s just trying to get along and shit just keeps happening. And that fucking kid . . .

Step 4: Holy Fuck!!!!

Step 5: Mom needs to chill out, seriously. Like the time when little Whiskey Leavins got caught with a half-pack of Camels? He’s just a kid. No need for all that.

Step 6: SWEET BABY JESUS AND ALL THE ORPHANS!!!!!!

Step 7: Oh, come on. Not the old lady too.

Step 8: I’m pretty sure I just . . . SHIT. MY. PANTS.

Step 9: No! The Boogey Man is NOT a fucking metaphor. The Boogey Man is the fucking Boogey Man! Oh, for fuck’s sake. Happy ending. Okay, not quite as happy as when Whiskey went to Madame Jong’s Palace of Ultimate Relaxation looking for relief from a backache . . . but, yeah.